


Because It Matters

by irradiations



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irradiations/pseuds/irradiations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce knows he can't have sex, and Hulk is wholly to blame. But telling Clint proves to be terrifying, though he will be surprised by the results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because It Matters

Bruce Banner didn't date. Not at all. After Betty and his accident, he didn't trust himself. He was too broken. It just didn't work.

Clint Barton also didn't date. Ever. Budapest had pushed him just over the edge, mentally, physically, everything. No one wanted damaged goods. 

So it was pretty ironic that they did wind up dating - each other. A lot of people pointed out the irony, and both of them ignored them. It didn't matter. Having someone you trusted and cared about... That was all that mattered. 

It happened by accident, really. They started eating lunch together one day. Neither of them spoke, it was just nice to have company. Their lunch times passed together, and became breakfast, and coffee, and dinner. It was just a wonderful time to pass the time. That lead to chaste little kisses, staying in each other's rooms, reading together, taking shore leave together, and before they knew it they were dating and four months had passed. 

Sex never came up. Oh sure, it did for everyone else, who had a long list of inane questions that they insisted on asking both Clint and Bruce with monotonous regularity, but the two of them hadn't discussed it at any length, not until Bruce decided he needed to bring it up. Properly. No beating around the bush.

Bruce'd told Clint everything about Betty, some of his childhood, Hulk... Yet here he was, sitting on his bed and anxious as a maid on her wedding night. Sex was important, it was a huge personal choice and exceptionally private thing, and he was terrified for what he was about to admit. Scared Clint would leave. He wrung his hands together, fidgeted with his watch, anxiously watching the hands flick around the face.

The door opened up and Clint strode in, looking tired but relieved to be home, away from work, and with his partner again. He smiled at Bruce tiredly, then his face fell as he saw Bruce's body language and the clearly upset look on his face. "Hey, are you... You okay?" He crossed the room quickly and sat on the arm chair nearest Bruce on the bed, watching his partner fretfully.

"I'm fine I just..." Bruce sighed, impatient with himself, annoyed that he couldn't just throw this kind of stuff out there like others did. He was so bad at this... "I really need to talk something through with you."

Clint swallowed like it hurt. He didn't like the sound of Bruce's tone, or his words, and it made his heart race away without him. Did Bruce... Not want him? Was he about to leave or... "What... I can y'know go or..." He tried not to sound upset, to feign detachment, but he figured he'd missed that mark by a long shot. 

Realisation and relief dawned on Bruce simultaneously, and he leaned forward and rested his hand on Clint's forearm, rubbing his skin soothingly. The conversation was moving, it was okay, nothing bad had happened - yet. His anxiety dropped, but only by a notch or two. "I don't... I don't want you to go anywhere but I..."

Crunch time. His mouth felt like it was suddenly laced with peanut butter, sticky, tacky, thick. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, willing the feeling to pass soon so he could get this out and done. 

"Sex." He paused, fixedly staring at Clint's wrist. Anything to avoid eye contact with Clint, who was staring at him with frightened, earnest eyes. "I... I'm scared."

Clint shuffled forwards, so he could grasp both Bruce's hands and try to convince his partner to look at him. He hoped returning the physical contact would coax him into looking up at him, but it didn't work. "Why're you scared? Bruce please... Please talk to me."

"You want it, right? I mean... Sex. With... With me." Clint frowned - he was confused by what Bruce was worrying, and so upset, about. This didn't make any sense, and it was so random and out of the blue. 

"Sure... I'm... I want to be with you, all of you, in every way so... Yeah." A thought struck him, and he stiffened as the horror hit him. The deep scarring on his shoulder and hip... They'd showered last night together. Was it those? Was Bruce really just like all the others, or... "My scars... It's my-"

"No, no Clint it isn't." Bruce did look up then, seeking to comfort and reassure Clint that his scars were not putting him off. He thought they were, actually, beautiful for what they were, and he loved that Clint was confident enough and comfortable with him to show them to him. "It's not. At all. It's... It's me."

 _It's me, I'm the broken one, and I'm utterly ashamed of it._

"It's Hulk." Clint looked at Bruce, studying him, trying to read into his words. Hulk? What did Hulk have to do with anything? "I can't."

Clint's frown deepened - he felt like he was beginning to understand now. "You can't... What?"

Bruce stood up abruptly, startling Clint, that fear response from Old Man Barton's drunken rages that always started like that hitting him in the gut. He tried to sit there, confident, in control, but failed, curling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, a childlike pose of protection. Bruce stalked away from him briskly, leaving Clint at a total loss as to what just happened.

He looked at Bruce, completely unsure. The scientist was standing across the room, his forehead resting against the wall and hands laced behind his head. He wasn't angry - at least, not with Clint. With himself? Definitely. Wholly. Because he was useless.

"Bruce what... You're scaring me..." Clint looked at Bruce, trying to stay in complete, fixed control. It wasn't working. "Bruce please, what's... What do you mean?"

Bruce took a deep breath. Oh no, he wasn't angry, but his eyes were prickling and tingling, his vision a little blurred. It took him a moment, but he turned back to Clint and went to him, kneeling down in front of him and looking up at him. He didn't try and pry Clint's hands apart, or his knees down, he let him stay exactly how he was if it comforted him. "I can't have sex. E-ever. It's... It's biology and chemistry and... Hell I'm not ashamed to say active experimentation. It can't... I'll never be able to give you that. And... And I'm sorry, it's... I'm just useless and... Broken."

There was a weight in Clint that lifted at that admission. Bruce wasn't leaving- not right then. He didn't hate Clint. He was admitting something huge, and Clint felt a palpable tension from Bruce as he awaited Clint's response. He unhooked his hands from around his knees and sat flat on the chair properly, one knee either side Bruce, who was looking at the floor with feigned interest. "It... Tony asked today if we'd... And I realised that I needed to give you an... An out." Bruce closed his eyes tight. "If you don't... Want me, anymore."

Clint sat forward properly, sliding off of the chair to perch himself in Bruce's lap and wrap around him like a blanket. "Is this... This what you think? What you've been fretting yourself about? You really think that... All I'm interested in is getting in your pants?" He nuzzled Bruce's face, feeling thoroughly horrible that Bruce's cheek was damp and cool. He'd never known Bruce cry, not even when he'd told Clint about the death of his mother or anything else traumatic from his past. 

Bruce shrugged. Clint understood; sometimes your voice would betray you more than your words did. "Well you're wrong. All those brilliant brain cells, and degrees, and qualifications, and... And you're wrong." Bruce wrapped his arms around Clint's ribs and embraced him then, for the first time since Clint had literally landed in his lap. "Would I love to have sex with you? Yeah, I really would, to be intimate with you and just take this to another level. Doesn't mean I don't wanna be with you. Want to share a bed with you, and... And coffee with you, or hold hands with you or anything else." Clint sighed into Bruce's shoulder, nuzzling at the shirt covering the skin, wanting to take away the fear he could feel coming off Bruce in waves. 

"I'm sorry," Bruce said quietly after a time of silence, that stretched out for a while as both of them settled into their position and their conversation. The fact was out there, and now he could relax a little but, because he'd been honest. He felt better, and now Clint understood, too. 

"M'not," Clint replied, his voice strong and firm without being unkind. The polar opposite, in fact. "M'not sorry, not for being with you, or Hulk, or the fact we can't fuck. Y'know how much of a dumbass you are?"

Bruce was too surprised to reply with anything but a slightly shocked laugh. 

"You're like... King of the Dumbasses, n'matter how many doctorates you've got. Y'know why?"

"I... I have a feeling I know where this is going," Bruce replied, his tone and voice much lighter than before.

Clint leaned back, pleased he'd reassured Bruce and, as it turned out, brought a faint smile to his face. Clint kissed him, wholly and totally, then broke it off to look at him, patiently waiting for Bruce to make eye contact properly with him again. "That you thought I'd not completely love you regardless of whether we slept together or not."

Both of them froze for a moment. That word... The big L word... That hadn't come up yet. It wasn't a shock because it wasn't mutual, it was just a shock to hear it said aloud. The worms from the can were everywhere now. 

"I love you, too," Bruce replied softly, smiling at Clint, wondering what piece of karma he'd scored to gain him such a partner.

*~*~*

After that, whenever anyone asked, Bruce and Clint had an answer. It was usually akin to 'Butt out and mind your own business', and eventually, people stopped asking - except Tony, but he was an exception, not the rule.

Their six month anniversary was spent in a hotel room in Dubai. The view was beyond incredible; the sea glowed, stars sparkled, moon sung. They had room service brought up to them and feasted on the finest steaks and sparkling sweet fruit cocktails, followed with devilish chocolate mousse and cream, before they retreated to the enormous bed that would've slept five to watch a movie. 

Bruce had other plans. Well, additional plans, anyway, above and beyond what had gone before. He knew Clint was fine with making out and just being together, but he wanted to give him more, to be intimate with him. So even though he couldn't come, didn't mean he couldn't make Clint do so. 

He waited until they were both comfortable, sat up on the bed, Clint with a cushion held to his chest absently as he watched the movie. Bruce had butterflies flapping hard in his stomach, trying to find a moment that was good, then he decided there wasn't one. He just had to go for it, be impulsive and do it. 

It was scarier than most any other moment that he could remember. 

He rolled smoothly to his knees, straddled across Clint's lap, and pried the cushion from Clint's arms, tossing it onto the bed beside him. Clint began to object, citing the movie continuing without them, then he saw the look on Bruce's face, and all objections left him totally. Bruce slowly unbuttoned Clint's shirt, collar to tails, pushing it down Clint's shoulders and arms then tossing it away for whenever.

Clint's breathing hitched slightly, Bruce's fingers catching a net of scarring over his left shoulder and making his nerves jingle. He didn't have the focus right then to undo buttons so instead he tugged the tails of Bruce's shirt until his partner acquiesced and pulled it off, abandoned like the other off the side of the bed. 

Bruce leaned forward, catlike, and started with a kiss to Clint's lips that had both of them gasping for air when he broke it off. His lips created down to Clint's jaw, up to his ear, down his neck, all gentle and soft kisses that belied how anxious he was feeling. He hadn't been with a man since college, so to say he was out of practice was an understatement, but it was all coming back to him pretty well as he worked down Clint's chest. As his lips travelled to Clint's nipple, tongue rubbing gently over it and making it harden and stiffen up, his hand was working on Clint's belt to get it loose. 

The greatest gift Bruce ever got was a very deft multitasking brain. 

Clint's hands skirted up Bruce's back, noting the little lumps and bumps of bone and soft tissue in Bruce's back, until they caught the edge of his curls and just had to get tangled up. He had no idea where this'd come from, but he was a big fan of spontaneity, and he tried hard to tell Bruce that but instead let out a very breathy moan as his partner's lips surrounded his nipple oh so perfectly. Whatever Bruce had planned? Clint was up for. 

Soon the belt, button and zip were well out of the way, his hand could get busy giving Clint some of the friction his arching hips wanted. It drew a low groan out of Clint that vibrated right through Bruce's lips and made him smile smugly. He rocked his hand along Clint's hardening length, thumb curling over the head and making Clint buck and tug hard at Bruce's hair. 

Bruce let go of Clint's nipple and nipped down those perfect abs, loving how goosebumps followed his kisses over Clint's skin. He'd forgotten these little things about making love, the tiny noises, the nervous responses, that warm, incredible feeling that you were doing something amazing for someone you loved. He got it then, understanding properly that orgasm wasn't the point of all this - being together was.

He reached Clint's hips and kissed both sides, willing himself to keep slow and steady, while his hand made sure Clint stayed well riled up. Bruce made himself relax, feeling hugely anxious right then, then gently peeled Clint's boxers down his hips enough his cock was free. 

They'd been naked together, plenty of times, but there was something different and that much more amazing about trusting both yourself and your partner enough to be sexual with them. He looked up at Clint, the smile on his face vaguely predatory, then shuffled himself backwards a little so he had a better angle. "Hey, put your hand against my neck, hm? Don't want any surprises," he said quietly, chuckling as it took a moment for the words to hit Clint and him to respond, his left hand resting on Bruce's warm neck and his right falling into the bedding.

Clint traced his fingers against Bruce's skin, trying to return his smile. His body was buzzing with adrenaline and apprehension and excitement, breathing hitching, body trembling, pupils blown wide, and watching Bruce's beautiful full lips curl around the head of his cock was almost too much. His hand knotted in the sheets and he cried out a nonsense word that sounded suspiciously like 'Fuck', and Bruce knew he had chosen his moment beautifully.

He rode all the way down Clint's length, tongue pressed against the thick vein that ran down the underside of Clint's cock, then right back to the tip, rolling his tongue around the head. He hadn't sucked anyone off in years, and he'd forgotten just how fucking good it was, the taste and feel of something so sensitive and private in your mouth. His lack of a gag reflex helped, taking Clint good and deep then coming back up to the top, riling Clint up good and slowly driving him up to orgasm.

Clint was utterly wrecked. He'd slammed his eyes shut, fingers so tightly wound in the bedding they ached, the other hand curled about the back of Bruce's neck tight like a spring. His breathing was interspersed with wordless moans of pleasure, which grew quieter and further apart the closer he got. 

Thankfully he didn't need to warn Bruce when he was about to come - medical knowledge did come in fantastic use - and his partner swallowed down every drop Clint gave him, sucking it all down then letting Clint's cock go to kiss his stomach so as not to oversensitize him. Bruce shimmied his way back up to sit beside Clint, who listed over and against him while he caught his breath. 

After a while, once Clint had settled and his boxers and jeans were tugged back up, he spoke softly to Bruce. "I... god I love you, y'know that? Jus wish... Wish could do it for you."

Bruce shushed Clint, kissing the back of his neck gently with a big smile on his face. "That's not what it's about though, you know. It's about being together, and... Yeah okay making you come is pretty hot and satisfying," Bruce said, making Clint laugh and sit up with a dreamy look on his face.

"It... Is?" Bruce nodded earnestly, which made Clint laugh again raucously. "I... I figured we'd never do anything, and that's fine y'know. Just us together... It's what I need." Bruce nodded again, stroking Clint's forehead with his fingertips. 

"I know, but I... Wanted to. Really, you didn't... I just wanted to, okay?" Bruce really didn't want Clint feeling like he pressured him into it, that he hadn't wanted to or anything - this was just something Bruce really, really wanted to do for Clint.

"Yeah, I... I guess I'm a little surprised but god... God that was incredible," Clint said in return, smiling at Bruce warmly. 

Bruce responded by turning the movie off, dimming the lights, then pulling the covers back and snuggling the both of them down into the blankets, tucked up and warm with each other. "Guess this is the first post-coital sleep," Clint murmured, pressing into Bruce's chest and nuzzling up close. "Not even naked, but it's... This is better, more special, than any other time. T-thank you."

Bruce kissed Clint's forehead, brimming with happiness and pride. "Any time, any time at all. You're... You're so different, to everyone else. I'm glad you're all mine."


End file.
